Snow Day
by tea and leaves
Summary: Snow, fluff and tickling.


**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Glee.**

**Hello internet world! I would like to apologize for this winter fic, but you see, I live at a latitude so far north, that despite being AUGUST, I am wearing a WOOL SWEATER.**

**This was prompted by the lovely digimontklover over two weeks ago. Yes, I am _that_ lazy.**

**The prompt is as follows:**

**"a cute and sort of sexy klaine fic where it's late at night and kurt discovers Blaine's super ticklish. Rachel and Finn are in the room next to them, and Kurt's parents are a few doors down. So basically kurt just Tortures blaine, and blaine can't laugh. Then end it with something cutesy(;"**

**I had a lot of trouble with this one for whatever reason, but ****I hope I do it justice because I really loved the idea! **

**It is set somewhere around Mash Off/I Kissed a Girl (Season 3.) Being the dedicated author that I am, I rewatched those episodes and I discovered two things: 1.) Kurt does not always dress well. Google _Kurt Mash Off outfit _and you'llsee what I mean. And 2.) Darren Criss even looks good with a freaky little mustache. *Sigh***

**OK. Here goes...**

* * *

**xx Carole's Perspective xx**

Burt shoves the door open and stomps his feet on the rug.

"It's getting cold!" he shouts as I peek my head out from the kitchen and smile at him.

"It's supposed to snow – a lot," I reply, flourishing a spoon for effect. "When are the boys coming home?"

Burt rolls his eyes. He's still not used to the thought of Kurt being in a relationship.

"I don't know, Care," he says, shuffling into the kitchen and planting a kiss on my cheek.

It's been a year now, and Blaine obviously makes Kurt very happy. If I thought Kurt was bubbly and overflowing when I met him, he's practically a geyser of bliss now. I don't see a problem with it. I'll admit that I was a bit surprised when I found Blaine's jeans in Kurt's laundry – Kurt's such a pure little thing – but Blaine seems like a good guy. He's very thoughtful and responsible, and he has a beautiful voice. I told him he's welcome to come over any time, as long as he sings something.

"What are you making for lunch?" Burt asks.

"Tomato soup. Did you clear the driveway? You remember last year – Kurt made Finn carry him to the car."

"Don't worry. It's clear." He frowns. "Just soup? No grilled cheese?"

"Your heart, Burt," I say firmly. "No cheese."

He shakes his head and I give a huge yawn.

"Still haven't gotten a bit of sleep," I mumble. "I really hope I can stay awake during the job interview tomorrow."

"You'll sleep tonight – it'll just be a quiet night at home."

The door bursts open and Kurt and Blaine fall through it, clinging to each other, covered in snow, laughing wildly. They take off their jackets and hang them up – Blaine's here so often, we put up an extra coat hook for him – and they come into the kitchen.

"Why are you covered in snow?" I ask, tapping some pepper into the soup. "And out of breath?"

"Well," Kurt says in a tone that promises a long, unnecessary explanation, "we were walking home from Glee Club—"

Even though all their classes are canceled because of the weather, the kids still attend Glee Club. _Sectionals, Carole, Sectionals!_ Kurt explained to me yesterday.

"—we had to walk, because my car is literally frozen to the parking lot, and _someone_," he looks pointedly at Blaine, "wouldn't help me push it, so it's still sitting there – anyway, we were walking home and a few of the jocks came after us and pushed us into a drift, but it was okay, because as they were walking away, one of them slipped on the ice, and because they all stand too close together and have the body type of a bowling pin, all four of them fell. We laughed, and they threatened us, so we had to run the rest of the way."

"Where was _your_ car, Blaine?" asks Burt.

Blaine's mouth twitches in embarrassment. "I can't drive in the snow."

"Wait a second," says Burt, looking at him intently. "_Kurt_ can drive in the snow and _you_ can't?"

"I've been too nervous to try it again."

"Because the first time you…?"

"I – I crashed into this sweet old lady's fence and knocked over her bird bath and it fell through her sliding glass door and it was thousands of dollars and—" Blaine gulps. " – God, you're probably not going to let me date Kurt now that you know how unreliable I am!"

"Calm down," says Burt. "Seriously, Kid. The last two months, it's like you think I'm going to hop out from behind a tree and shoot you. You haven't given me a reason to do that." He pauses. "Have you?"

Blaine shakes his head so frantically that he _must_ have done something. Kurt gives a dramatic sigh, tugging him out of the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" calls Burt.

"Upstairs. I know, I know – door open!"

I aim a scolding smile at Burt. "He's harmless, you know."

He laughs. "I know. But I just wouldn't be Burt Hummel if I didn't give my son's boyfriend a hard time."

* * *

**xx Kurt's Perspective xx**

"Mm, Blaine, knock it off," I murmur insincerely. "I'm trying to study."

He's sitting behind me, kissing my ear and saying nonsense things like _I think your hair is actually made of gold_.

"Blaine!" I snap as he wraps his hand around my waist and tugs me closer. "I need to pass this French exam!"

He groans and releases me. "You expect me to listen to you speak French and not _do_ anything about it?"

"Do _me_, you mean? And yes, I expect you to sit there like the good Dalton boy you are and wait for me to finish this chapter. My parents are right downstairs, anyway."

"That could be fun."

"Yeah, if you count getting impaled as _fun_." I sigh and kiss him. "There. Happy?"

"No, that just made everything ten times worse."

I shift my book to the left so he can see it. "Quiz me, okay? You read the English and I'll say the French."

"Okay," he says eagerly. "How do you say…to begin?"

"Commencer."

"How do you say…to create?"

"Creer."

"To astonish?"

"Mm…étonner."

"To kiss?"

"Cheese, Blaine. _Cheese_."

"I'm adorable and you love it," he says, undeterred. "What is it?"

"It's embrasser."

"Oh," he says, feigning disappointment. "I thought _this_ is how you said it."

He takes my face in both of his hands and kisses me with a _mwah!_

I laugh loudly and lean against him. "Keep going."

"Okay. How do you say…promise?"

My eyes flicker into his briefly. "Promettre."

"And how do you say love?"

"You're…"

"I'm what?"

"You're my favorite person," I admit. "And it's _aimer_."

He smiles and kisses me again. "How about 'I love you?'

"Je t'aime."

"Well, then…je t'aime, Kurt."

"You're such a dork." I smile. "But…je t'aime, Blaine."

We grin like idiots and then laugh at our ourselves, snuggling closer together.

"I love being with you when it's cold. You should keep that in mind if you ever make a huge mistake – bring it up to me in _winter_. I'll be more forgiving."

"I thought you hated winter."

"Well, I hate the slush and the fact that there are not nearly as many coat options as you would like to believe. I think I cried for a week after going to the mall and finding _two_ acceptable coats. _Two_, Blaine. But I like how romantic it is. Wood fires and Mexican hot chocolate…"

"Or if you're at the Hummel-Hudsons…Duraflames and Swiss Miss."

I laugh. "That's right. You know, in kindergarten they would hand out Swiss Miss and I was _convinced_ it was actually cat litter. I wouldn't drink it."

"It does have a cat litter smell," Blaine says.

"And appearance," I add. "Especially the marshmallow kind."

He leans back and I rest my head on his chest. I watch the snow falling outside the window, eyes nearly fluttering shut as he brushes his fingers through my hair. I want to live in this moment. Blaine. Snow. French.

I eventually make my way downstairs again. I'm crossing the hallway to the kitchen when I notice Finn and Rachel in the doorway.

"Rachel!" I yelp. "Why are you here?"

"Why is _Blaine_?" she asks, holding up his jacket for me to see.

"Because he radiates warmth and hospitality like a heated floor?" I suggest, putting my hand on my hip. "Haven't you always wanted a heated floor, Rachel?"

"I will never understand you," Finn tells me matter-of-factly.

"Be quiet, Finn," Rachel snaps. "This was _our_ night, Kurt!"

"Oh-whoa, this was _your_ night?" I ask. "No-na-no-na-no!"

"Dude, _seriously_," says Finn in an agonized voice, "put the Diva away."

"It just means he's happy," Rachel says, waving a hand and passing me to get to the den.

I follow her and grab the back of her sweater. "Don't you go in there, Rachel Berry! You're going _home_!"

"I thought you and Blaine were going to a movie!"

"We changed our minds," says Blaine, sliding out of nowhere to wrap an arm around me.

"Well, there isn't room for all of us!" says Rachel.

"Couldn't agree more," I reply, "which is why you'll be leaving."

"I've got an idea," says Finn. "We'll sing for it. May the best man win!"

"You and me?" I ask, pressing a hand to my chest. "Oh, you don't want to do that."

Finn bites his lip and turns to Rachel. "Can we just go to your place?"

"My dads are having a meet-and-greet wine tasting, Finn!" She sighs and looks around. "We'll just stay out of each other's way, all right?"

"No," I say firmly. "We've tried that before and somehow we always end up tangled together like the hairs in Jacob Ben Israel's afro comb."

"Well, we're not leaving!" she yells "Absolutely not!"

"Okay," says Dad, coming into the hallway. "I have an idea. I happen to know that Mr. Johansson assigned _Vanity_ _Fair_, and I would bet my life that none of you have even seen the movie version. So grab some soup and sandwiches and pile onto the couch and keep your hands to yourselves for once in your lives. Sound good? Good. Get a move on."

* * *

**xx Blaine's Perspective xx**

"Are you completely lost?" whispers Kurt. "I'm completely lost with the suitors. Who's Crawley again?"

"I think he's the one that just pushed Lord Steyne down the stairs."

"Oh, _that's_ the husband. Wait – then where does Osborne fit in?"

"He died in the battle. He was Amelia's husband."

"Right," sighs Kurt. "I thought this would be simpler. I don't think I'm going to pass that quiz."

"Maybe that's because you've been staring at Blaine the whole time," mutters Rachel.

"Finn's going to pass," Kurt retorts. "He's been _glued_ to Reese Witherspoon."

"I don't get it man," sighs Finn. "Why are you gay if you could have that?"

"Yes, it's _that_ simple," says Kurt, rolling his eyes. "And Blaine is better looking than Reese Witherspoon. And what kind of a name is _Reese Witherspoon_? I picture someone smashing a peanut butter cup with a deformed ladle when I think of her name."

"You need psychiatric help," says Finn.

"Ooh, he pulled out a big word. He must be serious."

"Shut up, Kurt."

"Stop acting like brothers and watch the movie," Rachel says in a decided tone. "And someone go make popcorn."

"I'll get it," I say, starting to get up, but Kurt tugs me back down and stands up in my place.

"No, I will. You've actually paid attention so far –you need to keep doing that so you can write my report for me."

"I'm writing your report?"

He leans close and whispers, "You can ask for _anything_ in return."

I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him a little bit closer. "Anything?"

"Anything," he confirms, and then falls into my lap, laughing, and kisses me.

Kurt. God, I really love him. I probably seemed confident and surrounded by friends, but before I met Kurt, I was living behind a wall and he… he was the only person with a key. He freed me because I knew he wouldn't hurt me. It was safe to drop all my defenses around him.

"Popcorn?" he asks, pulling back and sliding off my lap. "And how about hot chocolate?"

I smile and nod.

"Yeah," Finn adds, "and then we're going outside. I can't breathe in here and I want to cream Rachel in the face with a snowball."

Rachel sighs. "At least he's honest."

After we've finished three bowls of popcorn and an entire thermos of hot chocolate – each – we put on heavy coats and go outside. The sun's trying to peek through the clouds and the landscape is utterly still, except for the silent snowfall. It's perfect.

"So, there's a hill behind this row of houses," says Finn. "Sledding?"

We each grab a sled from the garage and hike out to the hill – which is actually dangerously steep and ends in a fence.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Kurt mumbles.

"Puck and I did it last year," says Finn, unconcerned. "We were fine."

"You and Noah don't count. It's like you two don't feel pain."

"We only ran into the fence twice! Just sit a little sideways so you don't, you know, catch a fence post between your legs."

"I'm in pain just thinking about that."

"You'll be fine."

With that, Finn heaves his body onto the sled – head first – and plummets down the hill. Kurt and I glance at each other.

"Together?" I suggest.

"I guess we have to die at some point," he replies. "I really wanted to spend Christmas with you, but…"

"We're not dying," I promise him. "Maybe we'll spend Christmas in hospital beds, but we're not dying."

Kurt nods, gulping, and sets his sled down gingerly. "The last time I did this, I was five, and it ended with me crying." He sits on the front of the sled and I slide in behind him. "I was five, I was terrified, and I fell off and hurt my arm and – just don't let me go, alright?"

"Do you really think you have to tell me that?" I whisper. "I'll never let you go."

"Okay," he squeaks. "Do it."

I push against the hillside.

Everything is a blur. The snow. The fading afternoon. Finn climbing back up the hill. It's winging by like a movie on fast-forward, and we don't know the plot and we don't know where to stop – God, we don't even have the remote – and there's that tugging, swooping sensation in my stomach, and my heart's beating too fast and Kurt's screaming something between "goodbye!" and "God yes!" and –

_Plunk_. We hit the fence and topple over each other.

"Oh my God! Kurt! Are you—"

He sits up, laughing riotously, not able to form words. Finally, he yells, "Again!"

The problem with this hill isn't really the way down – it's the way back. We are climbing Everest just for the thrill of sliding down it again.

"I…feel…" gasps Kurt as we reach the top, "…like…Sisyphus. This…is…ridiculous."

"We'll only go one more time," I tell him.

Of course, our resolutions break down, and we slide down almost a dozen more times. I'm ready to go inside and collapse in front of the fire when Finn pulls me aside.

"Let's ambush Kurt and Rachel – snowball fight."

I grin and that side of me – that loud, hetero, idiotic side that should have been gone by age four - surfaces. "Definitely. Quick! Hide behind that bush!"

We duck and begin to form a pile of snowballs. Rachel and Kurt, unsuspecting, argue vehemently about PETA's role in society.

"On the count of three," says Finn. "Three. Two. NOW!"

We whack Rachel and Kurt with snowballs and they back up, screaming threats and trying in vain to retaliate.

"I'm telling your mother it was Puck's baby!" shouts Rachel.

"No sex for a month!" shrieks Kurt, evidently losing his taste for subtlety.

We keep throwing snowballs until one slams squarely into Kurt's cheek. We all freeze, holding our breath, and watch as he slowly brings his hand up to touch the growing red circle under his eye. I gulp as he extracts a compact mirror from his jacket pocket. He examines the damage and his soft, seamless mouth opens in horror.

"What have you done?!" he shouts. "This will change my outfit coordination for a week! I didn't think I'd have to wear something that goes with _maroon_ every day! God! Look at my skin! What have you done?!"

None of us say anything.

"Whose snowball was it?" he asks, voice suddenly low and dangerous.

I point at Finn. Finn points at me.

"Oh, very mature," he sighs. "Whose was it?"

"We don't know!" I shout.

"Well, we're going to say it was yours—"

"It wasn't!" I interject frantically.

"Blaine," he pushes. "I know it was yours. And now that I've been grievously injured," he points to the mark on his cheek, "you will have to take care of me the rest of the night. You have to get me and give me anything I ask for."

I hang my head and he laughs suddenly, stepping up to me and lifting my chin so I look in his eyes.

"Blaine, I think I could get you to cut your kidney out for me. Stand up for yourself, babe."

"So, I'm not a slave for the night?"

"No– but you have to carry me to the house."

I laugh and lift him up in my arms.

"And you have to kiss me," he says.

I kiss him and he grins.

"Okay then."

I carry him past Finn and Rachel and Rachel sighs.

"We'll never compete with that, Finn. They're just too adorable."

**xx Burt's Perspective xx**

These kids are going to give me a heart attack.

I worried enough about Kurt before he had a boyfriend. I probably worried too much. But it's _Kurt_. And I know he's eighteen now, I know I'm probably holding Blaine to a double standard, but I just can't let it go. Carole jokes that I'm rapidly approaching insanity. She's says before I know it, I'll be pitching a tent outside Blaine's house and glaring at him through the sight on a rifle. And while that's appealing, I do actually _trust_ Blaine. He just puts me on edge, like when I see Finn chewing on a piece of foil. I just have to cringe a little bit.

Speak of the devil. Blaine and Kurt come through the door. Kurt's curled up into a ball in Blaine's arms – well, as much of a ball as someone as tall and thin as Kurt can manage – and they're laughing and kissing. I clear my throat and Blaine almost drops Kurt in panic.

"Where are you two headed?"

Blaine opens his mouth and Kurt elbows him sharply.

"I need to practice French," he explains.

_Yeah, French kissing_, I think to myself, and then quickly shoo the thought away.

"Go ahead," I tell them.

Blaine grins. Kurt rolls his eyes, getting to his own feet, and pulls Blaine down the hall by his hand.

"Oh, and Kurt?" I shout.

"What?" he asks, turning.

"Be down in twenty minutes to baste that leftover turkey."

Kurt gives me a look that communicates just how little he wants to baste a turkey. I shrug.

"Twenty minutes, Bud."

They continue down the hallway, exchanging an _oh, Dad_ look. Satisfied, I walk into the den and sit next to Carole, who's napping.

"You can pretend all you want, Burt," she says quietly, "but they're teenage boys."

I laugh. "Well, they're certainly keeping me on my toes."

"You're terrible. You're actually making me feel bad for Blaine." She yawns. "But I'm glad you got Kurt to do that turkey for me. I'm too tired. Way too tired."

"Do you feel good about the interview?"

"Mm hmm," she mumbles. "As long as I get a good sleep, no one else has a chance."

"That's my Carole."

**xx Kurt's Perspective xx**

After basting the turkey and enduring an embarrassing conversation with Finn about turkey baster babies, I collapse in the living room with Rachel. I stupidly thought she might not talk about it, but of course, she does.

"It's not fair I can't perform at Sectionals, Kurt!"

"You rigged the election, Rach! You almost got _me_ suspended!"

"Yes, but we could have handled Sectionals without—" she stops herself. "I didn't mean that, Kurt! But with the Trouble Tones…"

"Remember what I said about your borderline sociopathic climb to the top? This is what I meant."

She sighs. "I know! I'm sorry! The real tragedy here is that you won't be in New York with me! Oh, Kurt. What if I have a hair emergency? I need my favorite gay!"

"Blaine!" I call. "Blaine, I need you!"

"Oh, don't get Blaine involved!" cries Rachel. "I'm sorry! I said I was sorry!"

"I just want Blaine, all right? I don't like this topic!"

Blaine appears and shoots a look at Rachel, who sighs sharply. Then he sits next to me and pulls me into a hug.

"Happy?" he asks.

"Very."

I smile and rest my chin on his shoulder. Just as I've snuggled closer, his phone rings. It's his mom, telling him he needs to be home in time for dinner. But when we go outside, going home looks unlikely. The driveway is completely snowed in.

Rachel appears in the doorway behind us. "The news just came on. We have another snow day tomorrow and there's an extreme weather warning. I think Blaine and I have to spend the night."

"That's the best news I've heard in a year," I say excitedly. "I don't even mind that _you're_ here, Rach! We're going to watch another movie, and sing duets, and tell ghost stories, and—"

"Just heard the news, kids," says Dad, also standing behind us and looking out at the whiteness that is Lima. "Looks like you're staying the night. Now listen up – Carole has a big day tomorrow and she _needs_ to get some sleep. You're going to bed at ten, and there's going to be no talking after that, got it?"

We all nod.

"We'll break out the air mattresses after dinner," he goes on. "You averse to sleeping with Blaine, Rachel?"

"Yes, she is," Blaine says. "She's deeply averse to it."

Rachel nods seriously. "I am. _Deeply_."

Dad rolls his eyes. "Well, it's either Blaine and Finn—"

"No!" I scream.

"—or Blaine and Rachel. Your choice. Dinner's ready, by the way."

Blaine, Rachel and I look at each other, and then Rachel leans in close.

"Okay, here's the plan – at precisely midnight, you Blaine, will sneak into Kurt's room, and I will sneak into Finn's room – and then, at precisely two 'o clock, we'll sneak back. In the morning, no one will know."

"We can't wake Carole up," I mention.

"We'll be quiet. We can do this."

We all nod at each other and go back inside, smiling innocently at my parents.

* * *

**xx Blaine's Perspective xx**

"What time is it?" Rachel hisses, turning over and lifting up her eye mask.

"11:49 and 20 seconds."

"Well, aren't you specific." She sighs and sits up, running her fingers along her pigtails. "What time is it now?"

"It is…11:49 and 41 seconds," I reply, laughing. My phone buzzes and I open it. "It's from Kurt."

"What does it say?" she asks, shimmying closer.

**What do you say to arriving fashionably early?**

"I say yes," whispers Rachel.

"Me too," I agree.

**Be there in a minute. ; )**

Rachel and I stand up and grip hands, Burt's warning still ringing in our ears.

"Okay," she says. "_Absolute silence._"

I nod and we start down the hallway, jumping at creaks and noises from the blizzard outside. We've just made it up the stairs when the unthinkable happens. Carole, looking pale and out of sorts, ghosts out of her bedroom wearing a see-through yellow nightgown. Oh my god. Carole Hudson in her nightgown! Why does God have these things happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? Kurt's mother in her negligee? I may never be the same!

"Oh my god," breathes Rachel. "What are we going to do!?"

"Hide!"

"Where?!"

"Uh – curtains!"

We dive behind the curtains and hold onto each other tightly.

"Blaine?" whispers Rachel. "If we don't make it out of this alive, I want you to know that I was going to offer to be a surrogate mother for you and Kurt!"

"That's…"

"Shh! Here she comes!"

We hold our breath as Carole passes, peeking out of the slit in the curtain. She's an inch away when my phone buzzes. Carole pauses and squints at the noise, but ultimately keeps going, and soon she's gone into the bathroom and shut the door.

Rachel and I spring in separate directions. I fall through Kurt's door.

* * *

**xx Kurt's Perspective xx**

"What happened?" I whisper.

"Just kiss me," Blaine says, grabbing me close, his voice already low and gravelly.

I laugh and kiss him, holding him steadily and backing up towards the bed. We collapse on top of it and I burst out laughing.

"Shhh! Carole's right outside!"

"What?" I ask, frantic. "She's up? Did she catch you?"

"No, don't worry," he says, kissing me again. "We were very careful. But…_shhh_."

We kiss for a few more minutes and he takes his time to look into my eyes and smile. To use one of my favorite British-isms, I'm chuffed to bits. I lit candles and opened the window to the let the snow in and he's actually being slow and romantic like I wanted. It gives me a little thrill to know how cold the air is around us and not even feel a whisper of a chill. In fact, I'm too warm, too warm in the best way.

"Mm, I love you," I murmur, running my hand down his side.

He giggles unexpectedly.

"What was that for?" I ask.

"That really tickles."

"This?" I repeat the movement and he laughs again. "I've done that to you a million times!"

"I know! But it really tickles right now!"

"Is that so?" I ask, turning on my side. "Does this tickle?"

I walk two of my fingers down his abdomen and he nearly wrenches forward.

"Yes!"

"Be quiet, B!"

"Stop tickling me!"

I grin mischievously and straddle him. "We're going to play a game."

"What kind of game?"

"The kind of game I can only play when I have a beautiful shirtless boy in my bed."

"I thought we _were_ playing that game."

I shake my head. "Nuh uh. This game..." I lean forward and press a kiss to his ear, "...takes much more self-control. You can't laugh."

"That sounds like torture."

"That's the point."

I pinch his side. He squirms and bites his lip.

"Oh, this will be too easy," I murmur.

He sets his face. "No. I can do this."

I sweep my fingers over the band of his boxers and he presses his body toward my touch.

"_Ughn. _That isn't fair!"

"Is this fair?" I ask, dragging my thumb up the slight indentation between his abs.

He bares his teeth in an attempt not to laugh, shaking his head fast. "Not even a little fair!"

"How did I not know you were ticklish?" I whisper, giggling. "This is incredibly entertaining."

I drag my hands down his sides and he makes a noise that sounds like a mix of a moan and a laugh.

"I hear defeat!"

"No you don't!"

"I DO!" I say, jabbing my thumbs into his sides.

He twists up and laughs embarrassingly loud. We both freeze and listen intently, but we don't hear anything.

"Okay, enough," he says. "We can't get caught."

I shake my head and shimmy my fingers all over his torso.

"Kurt!" he says in a strangled voice. "Please stop!"

But I don't stop. He tries to push me off of him and we wrestle each other for a minute, ending up tangled at the bottom of the bed.

"Alright, Blaine," I say, breathing hard. "I'm done."

"Thank God."

"I'm kidding."

I pounce on him again and tickle him from neck to hips. He's a laughing, moaning, crying mess. A _loud_ mess.

"Oh God!" I hiss suddenly. "Carole!"

Again, we listen. Again, we hear nothing.

"Please!" he says, when I eye him. "Please d-don't-"

But I do. I can't stop. His laughing and his muscles tensing so willingly under my fingertips, his watery eyes and wrinkled nose...it's addicting.

"Stop wiggling!"

"Stop tickling me!"

"Blaine!"

"Kurt!"

I giggle - an evil giggle - and blow into his belly button. And that's what does it. He _yells_. And almost instantaneously...

"KURT ELIZABETH HUMMEL!"

Blaine and I stare at each other, paralyzed, as footsteps approach our door.

"Under the covers!" I whisper.

By the time the door opens, we're convincingly asleep. Dad _hmmphs_ and shuts the door. Then he opens it again.

"Blaine Anderson!"

I press my foot to Blaine's, telling him to stay silent.

"Blaine!" Dad pushes.

_Please go away. Please go away. Please go away._

Of course, Dad doesn't go away. He walks up to the side of the bed and nudges Blaine's shoulder. Blaine turns over groggily and even blushes. Mm, my handsome actor boyfriend.

"I'm sorry, Burt!" he whispers. "Really, I am! I just wanted to be near Kurt, that's all. I just wanted to fall asleep in here."

Dad grunts, unconvinced. Then tell me," he says, "Who screamed? The neighbor?"

"Must've been Rachel."

"Why would Ra-" Dad pales and leaves the room, this time yelling, "Finn Christopher Hudson!"

Blaine turns over and I snuggle into him. We listen to the passionate argument in the next room.

"So, " I whisper after everything quiets down. "Where were we?"

"You must have a death wish," he mutters.

"Dad thinks it's them, B."

"No, you must have a death wish because _I'm_ going to kill you if you tickle me again."

"Oh, I didn't mean tickling."

We sink into a needy kiss and I smile widely against his lips. We laugh together, briefly meeting eyes, and then everything becomes a warm, shining blur.

I like snow days.

* * *

**Do you think Carole got a good sleep? Hee hee. I don't! Ah, Carole! Will someone please ****create a ****Carole ****Hummel Appreciation Day already? Because I LOVE her.**

**By the way, I have another story called In My Life, which wants more friends! And r****eviews make me dance like a drunken Blaine, so keep em coming! XD**


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